


The Detectives And The Hound

by afteriwake



Series: All Of Time And Space [37]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:45:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John get given a case from Henry Knight, who believes his father was killed years prior by a hound in the moors. But what starts as a much needed break from the tedium that Sherlock is experiencing turns into a case that has him questioning many things and feeling something he has not felt in a long time: the type of fear that leaves you with a chill in your bones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Detectives And The Hound

**Author's Note:**

> So finally, after being asked countless times, I am rewriting "The Hounds of Baskerville" from Sherlock. I _finally_ got a hold of season two and watched it and fell in love with the episode. Seeing as how I do not own the DVDs I was watching them on, I am gratefully relying on Ariane DeVere's transcript (found [here](http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/28352.html)). This was supposed to be my entry for **journeystory** on LJ but I get the feeling I will not finish it by the deadline so I figured I should post it and not make you guys wait since many of you have waited long enough.

“I need one,” Sherlock said, hanging his head. John was over, tapping away at his laptop. “I need something to get past the tedium.”

“No,” John said, not looking up from his laptop. “You promised Amy you would quit. You promised from a week after Melody came home. It’s been over a year now and you still haven’t quit. You’re just lucky you lasted as long as you did.”

“I just want _one_ ,” Sherlock said, his voice almost becoming a whine.

John looked up and quirked an eyebrow at him. “Are you really whining over not having a smoke? You have all those nicotine patches. Use one of those.”

“I have two on right now. And it’s not helping.”

“Do you want me to go into a graphic description of what it’s like to have lung cancer again?” John asked as he went back to his typing.

“I already knew. I’ve studied the effects of cancer before, remember?” Sherlock moved over to him. “Just one. Please. I’m begging.”

“No, Sherlock. I do not want Amy skinning me alive tonight. Or Lorna, for that matter.” A panicked look crossed his face for a moment. “Or both of them. Dear God, I’d rather just die at that point.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to make a snide reply, then stopped and sagged down, defeated. “It would be very bad to have both of them cross at us, wouldn’t it?”

“Very bad. More hazardous to our health than cancer.” He looked over at Sherlock and then sighed. “Do you want a case?”

“Yes. Please,” Sherlock said as he went back to his sofa, lying down on it. “I’m begging you.”

John tapped some more keys on his laptop, and then sighed. “Apparently all we have is a little girl who wants you to find her missing rabbit.”

“Anything interesting about the rabbit?” he asked, shutting his eyes.

“No sign the cage was broken into, and it glowed before it disappeared?” John said. “And its name is Bluebell.”

Sherlock huffed out a sigh. “This is all so tedious. I need a cigarette. I need to think.”

“You know the Doctor promised you a trip to anywhere or any time you wanted to go if you quit smoking and didn’t pick up a cigarette for a month.”

“How long has it been?”

“A week.”

“Why did I ever agree to it?” Sherlock said, sitting up quickly. “Go buy me a pack.”

“No. You got every vendor in a two block radius to not sell cigarettes to you, me, Amy, Lorna or anyone else that’s known to associate with you.”

“If Jack was here Jack would do it,” he said in a huff.

“Yes, I’m sure he would. But then again he can’t die so it wouldn’t matter if your wife killed him,” John said with a smirk. “Look, Sherlock. Just let it go, all right? You only have three more weeks before you get your trip. And then it’ll be easier because you won’t crave them as much.”

“I need one,” he said, glaring at John.

“No. You don’t. And I’m not getting you one.”

“I’ll convince the Doctor to get you winning lottery numbers,” Sherlock said, nearly pleading.

“He won’t do that.”

“He did it once before.” John raised an eyebrow. “The former regeneration, for a companion named Donna Noble. He did it once, I can convince him to do it again. I can be persuasive.”

“And I’ll just laugh in your face when he turns you down. And before you actually try to do it, just remember if you bring it up in front of Amy how badly you think you need a cigarette she’ll laugh in your face and hand you that baby toy Melody got, the knot with one end.”

Sherlock perked up slightly. “Where is that?”

“Out of the house with your daughter, your wife and my girlfriend.”

“Damn,” Sherlock muttered, deflating again. “Why on Earth did I ever start smoking again?”

“Because when you were looking for Amy you had on six patches at a time and you just ended up retching the entire contents of your stomach in the loo,” John said, looking at his friend. “And you promised her you would quit. You promised her, and then you lied to her, and then she caught you in a lie you’d been perpetrating for over a year. So be happy she didn’t kick you out of the house for a bit.”

“I suppose I should be happy for that,” he said with a sigh. “I would have had to live with you.”

“No and no. I would have made you stay in a hotel.”

“You would put me out?” Sherlock asked, his eyes wide.

“Frankly? Yes. I’ve lived with you before, remember? Not an experience I want to repeat.” He sighed. “There has to be something else to occupy your mind.”

“Cluedo?” Sherlock suggested.

“ _No_ ,” John asked, his eyes wide. He gestured to the Cluedo board attached to the wall with a dagger. “You nearly got sent to the doghouse the last time you played. There is no possible way the victim could be the killer, and Amy was quite tired of hearing it by the end.”

“But it’s the only way that makes sense,” Sherlock said insistently.

“Suicide is not an option in a murder mystery game,” John said, hanging his head forward slightly and pinching the bridge of his nose. Sherlock raised a hand, finger pointed to make an emphatic point, when the doorbell rang. John looked at him sharply. “Rang the bell once.”

“Slightly under thirty seconds of pressure,” Sherlock said, a small smile forming on his face.

“Client,” they chorused, John’s expression being one of relief. John closed his laptop and put it on the table before getting up to answer the door while Sherlock looked around, making sure everything was at least tidy.

A few moments later John came up with a young man who looked incredibly nervous. “Sherlock, this is Henry Knight,” John said. “He might have a case for you.”

“Very well,” Sherlock said with a nod, pointing to a chair. “Try not to bore me.”

John glared at Sherlock. “Just because you’re in a bad mood—” Then he sighed and turned to Henry. “Ignore his ghastly manners. Tell us about your problem.”

“Yes, tell us about your problem,” Sherlock said. “And as I said, try not to bore me.”

“Give me a moment,” John said as Henry moved to the seat. Then he looked at Sherlock. “You. Me. Your bedroom. _Now._ ”

“Very well,” Sherlock said with an exasperated sigh. He led the way to the bedroom he shared with Amy, waiting for John to come in, and then turned to his friend. “Well?”

“Sherlock, you're being an arse,” John said. “You wanted a case. You might have one. And you’re being insufferable. Stop right now.”

“I’ve always had this attitude,” he said.

“But never this badly before,” John said. “If you don’t want him to up and leave, then behave yourself.” He paused. “I saw a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Stop acting like an arse and I’ll tell him to have a cigarette.”

Sherlock perked up. “Will you let me have one as well?”

“No. I’m not going to do that. But the smoke might get you to be on better behavior.”

“And what will you tell Amelia when she comes home and the room smells of cigarettes?” Sherlock asked, moving towards his friend.

“We’ll air it out before she comes home,” John said with a shrug. “And there’s always the truth, you know. Nervous client wanted a smoke, we obliged. Just don’t do anything creepy.”

“I will be on my best behavior,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“You better be,” John muttered as Sherlock opened the door and left the room. John followed and they went back into the common room. “Would you like tea?” John asked.

“He would probably like a cigarette more,” Sherlock said, moving his chair closer to Henry. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I…I would,” Henry said. “May I?”

“Of course,” Sherlock said, inching his chair closer.

“Sherlock…” John said warningly as he went into the kitchen. “That’s close enough.”

“No, John,” Sherlock said. “It’s not.”

Henry looked at Sherlock strangely, stopping his actions to take a cigarette out of the pack before turned to John. “Is he all right?”

“He quit smoking a week ago,” John said as he began to make tea.

“Maybe I shouldn’t, then,” Henry said, beginning to put the cigarette away.

“No. You absolutely should,” Sherlock said.

“Stand behind him, at least,” John said with a sigh. “I apologize for him. His wife is making him quit.”

“Your wife is the model, right?” Henry asked as Sherlock moved behind him.

“Yes, that would be Amelia,” Sherlock said. “Please light the cigarette quickly.”

Henry tilted his head back slightly to look at Sherlock, then lowered his head and put the filter of the cigarette between his lips. He dug out his lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. When he exhaled, Sherlock moved to the side. Henry looked at him strangely. “I can always tilt my head back,” he said.

“This is fine,” Sherlock said, squatting next to him and inhaling deeply, shutting his eyes as he did. “Tell me your story.”

Henry glanced back at the kitchen. John had turned around and he nodded slightly. Henry inhaled again and then exhaled, this time doing it directly towards Sherlock. Sherlock appeared to relax slightly. “When I was a child, I saw my father killed. It was a beast that killed him, out in the moors.”

“A beast?” John asked.

“A hound. A gigantic hound,” Henry said.

Sherlock eyes snapped open and he watched Henry. Henry took a napkin from his pocket and wiped his nose with it. Sherlock noted that there was a phone number on it, and Henry had tried to fill in a number that had been smudged by spilled coffee. “Why are you only now coming for help?” he asked. “You came on the first possible train this morning. Your entire demeanor and the objects you are carrying scream that out. Something scared you, didn’t it?”

“I saw it. The thing that killed my father. I saw it when I went back to where it all happened,” he said, putting the napkin away. He then pulled something else out. “This might explain it better.” Sherlock took the DVD out of his hands and examined it. “It’s a documentary that I participated in.”

“Very well,” Sherlock said with a nod, standing up and walking to the DVD player. He took the DVD out of the slipcase and put it into the player. When the menu came up he pressed play and watched. John brought out tea about ten minutes later, but Sherlock ignored the cup John offered, concentrating on the TV. When Henry’s segment came up he paused it.

“I was just about to explain,” Henry said, pausing in the sip he was about to take.

“I’ve seen enough,” Sherlock said. “And besides, I like to conduct my own interviews.” He went back over to his chair and looked at Henry. “So you said it was a hound?”

“A gigantic hound,” Henry said with a nod. “Why?”

“The terminology intrigues me,” he replied. “Hound is an archaic term. Most people don’t use it.” He leaned forward. “We’ll take your case.”

“But you didn’t ask me any questions,” Henry said, looking confused.

“I know enough,” Sherlock said. “May I keep the DVD?”

“Yeah, sure,” Henry said with a nod. 

“Go back to Dartmoor. Leave your address with John and we will meet you there tomorrow.” He stood again and went back to the television, picking up the remote and backing the DVD up before pressing play again.

“Is that all?” Henry asked, setting his tea cup down and looking at John.

John nodded. “Why don’t you write down your address for me? If Sherlock said we’ll be there tomorrow then we’ll be there.”

“All right,” Henry said with a nod. John reached over for a pad of paper and a pen and handed them to Henry. Henry wrote out an address and then handed it back. He stood up and looked over at Sherlock, then back at John. “Is he always like this?”

“Frequently,” John said with a nod. “But he’s brilliant. He’ll figure it all out.”

“If you say so,” Henry said.

John gave him a reassuring smile. “It will be fine, I promise. Go ahead and go back home. We’ll meet you there tomorrow.” Henry nodded once, gave a last look to Sherlock and then left. John went back over to Sherlock. “Why did we take this case again?” he asked.

“I want to get into Baskerville,” he said.

“The military base?” John asked, moving to view the screen better.

Sherlock nodded. “There’s a few things I would very much like to know.”

“How is Amy going to take us going on this trip?” John asked.

“The better question is how Lorna is going to take you leaving,” Sherlock said with the ghost of a smile. “Amelia will understand.”

“If you say so,” John said. “They won’t be home any time soon, though.”

“That’s why phones were invented, John,” Sherlock said, pausing the DVD again to pull out his phone. He had memorized Amelia’s number a long time ago and he keyed it in with ease. She picked up after three rings. “I need to go out of town on a case,” he said before she even said hello.

“Well, hello to you too, dear husband. I’m doing just peachy today,” she said, but he could tell she was not really as annoyed as she was trying to seem.

“Do not tease,” he said.

“But where is the fun if I can’t tease my husband, Sherlock?” she said. “Where are you headed?”

“Dartmoor,” he said. “John will be coming with me.”

“Do you want me to break the bad news to Lorna?” she asked.

“John can do it himself,” Sherlock replied, shrugging even though his wife couldn’t see him.

“They had plans this weekend. _Big_ plans,” she said.

“It’s only Tuesday,” he replied.

“Do you think you can get this case done in three days?”

“I think I can have it solved in two,” Sherlock said confidently. “What were these plans, anyway?”

“Nothing you should worry yourself about. And it’s nothing set in stone. I’ll tell her now and that way she can rearrange things for next weekend.”

Sherlock pulled away the phone from his ear. “John, did you have plans this weekend?” he asked.

“Damn,” John said. “I did. Lorna and I were going out of town Friday evening.”

“Oh,” Sherlock said.

“Tell him she can reschedule,” Amy said into the phone.

“Amelia says she can reschedule,” Sherlock said.

“That would be good, I suppose,” John said with a nod. “Maybe we can take a longer trip that way.”

“He says perhaps they can take a longer trip that way,” Sherlock told Amy.

“Then I’ll tell her. Will you still be home in an hour or two?”

“Possibly. I need to go speak to Mycroft.”

There was a pause. “Does your case involve the government?” she asked.

“In a roundabout way,” he said.

“I like your brother and all, but just remember he is not your get out of jail free card. Be careful, all right?”

“I will be. Give Melody a kiss for me.”

“I will. I love you, Sherlock.”

“I love you too, Amelia. I will see you soon.” He hung up at that point and looked at John. “Come along. We have errands to run before we leave.”

“I still need to go home and pack,” John said.

“I know. That is one of the errands we must attend to.” Sherlock went to the DVD player and pulled out the DVD. “And make sure you bring your laptop. I’ll want to finish watching this.”

“Your laptop can play DVDs too, you know,” John said.

“Yes, but mine is broken,” he replied, putting it into the sleeve.

John quirked up an eyebrow. “Did you shoot it?”

Sherlock looked at him. “I may have perhaps put a bullet through it, yes.”

John hung his head and shook it slightly. “I swear, I don’t know how Amy puts up with you. I don’t know how _I_ put up with you, to be honest.”

“It’s because you all care for me,” he said, going towards his coat.

“One day that isn’t going to be enough.”

“One day, perhaps. But not today.”

John sighed and went to go get his own coat. “You’re right, I suppose.”

“Of course I am.” Sherlock slipped his coat on, then put the DVD into his pocket. “Bring your laptop with us. I want to show this DVD to Mycroft.”

“Fine, fine,” John said as he put on his coat. He went back for his laptop, unplugged it, and then coiled up the cord. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I do. I always know what I’m doing,” Sherlock said in a slight huff. “I shall meet you outside.” And with that Sherlock left, leaving John to hurry in his wake. This was going to be an interesting trip, John thought to himself as he made his way outside. He just hoped it wasn’t the death of him.


End file.
